The Only Way Out
by IAmAlbertWesker
Summary: -Resident Evil and Saw Crossover- Leon Kennedy has become victim to Jigsaw's sick games. Will he be able to save the lives of the people dragged into the game and overcome the pain to escape to freedom? Sometimes the Hero of the story lives long enough to see himself become the Villain. -Rated M for language, gore, and implied sexual content.-


-This is my first attempt at a crossover. If enough people favorite / leave feedback I will write and post the sequel. I came up with the idea for the first 3 traps and used the remaining one from the fifth movie as it is my favorite trap. I used some quotes from the tapes in the movies and made a few changes to minor things to make it work for the story. Rated M for gore, language, and implied sexual content.-

Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or any characters and am not profiting from writting this story. I do not own Saw or any characters and am not profiting from writing this story.

When Leon awakens, only darkness greets him. He can't see a thing, and instantly his heart starts racing. Too many bad scenarios flood through his mind, and he shakes his head to clear it. The last thing he could remember was returning home from a late night at the bar, and flipping on the light switch…

Leon jumps back as he remembers being face to face with an intruder wearing a pig mask. An intruder that stabbed a needle into his neck. His back hits the wall and he lets out the sigh. He should really stop being so jumpy…

The sound of a breaker flipping can be heard, and bright fluorescent lights shroud the room in an eerie grey-white glow. The tile on the wall and floor is stained dark red in places with dry blood. There is a single steel door on the opposite wall, and a tv hanging in the far right corner of the room surrounded by metal grating.

A doll with black hair, white face paint, and red circles on its cheeks appears on the tv, and its mouth moves to the words that have been pre-recorded.

"Hello, Leon. You don't know me, but I know you. I want to play a game. You've devoted your life to saving the lives of those less fortunate than yours, even if they are ungrateful. Time and time again you've thrown yourself into the path of peril to keep another person alive. Will you shed blood, and perhaps sacrifice your own life, in the path ahead of you? Or will you back down from the challenges you face? Let the game begin."

The tv shuts off and the steel door unlocks and swings open, revealing a dimly lit hallway. It's the only way to go, and Leon walks cautiously down the hallway and through the next door, which shuts and locks behind him. He is surrounded by darkness once more. He can't shake the feeling that he's being watched, his skin crawling.

The lights turn on. The room is large and in a decaying state. Leon does a 360 to take in everything. An interrogation room with a door on the far right are ahead of him. A digital clock hangs above the large pane of glass in the center of the wall, reading five minutes, the time held still. As Leon takes a step closer to the glass, the lights on the other side turn on.

Leon's eyes widen in horror, and he lets out a gasp. On either side of the room, Chris Redfield and Albert Wesker stand, facing him. Their arms are tied behind their backs with thick rope to a steel pole. A contraption attached to each of their chests holds a revolver pointed at their hearts. Both men's mouths are gagged with rope.

A voice begins to speak through the room's intercom system. Chris struggles and tries to cuss, but it comes out as a slur of sounds. Wesker is calm and doesn't move.

"Hello Leon, I see you've made it to your first task. Ahead of you stand two men very much unalike, yet both have inflicted the very same pain upon you. These men have used you, abused you, and broken your heart. Are you willing to inflict more pain upon yourself to save their lives? Or shall you watch in satisfaction as they suffer in front of your eyes? On either side of you is a panel with a grip in it. Take hold and don't let go as you endure more of the pain brought upon by these men if you deem them worthy of living. If you fail to hold onto their lives for five minutes, they will suffer an obvious fate. The choice is yours. The rules of our game have been made very clear. You need to abide by those rules."

The speech ends and the digital clock lights up, the number frozen at five minutes. Chris struggles harder against his bonds, yelling obscenities behind the gag.

"Chris!" Leon makes a fist and smashes it against the glass, not even leaving a mark. He places his palm against the glass, looking Chris in the eyes.

"Don't worry; I won't let you die..."

Leon steps back and looks at the mechanisms to his left and right. It's plain and simple, just like what the voice asked him to do. He takes a deep breath. He extends his arm and grasps the grip tightly in his hand. The timer begins counting down. Nothing happens, and everything is silent for a moment. Leon looking at the two captives as they look back at him.

A loud bang echoes through the room, and Leon screams, clenching his eyes shut, as a white hot pain floods through his left wrist. He can feel blood trickling down his arm and dripping onto the tile floor, staining it a dark crimson red. He shudders and takes in a shaky breath, before opening his eyes and looking at his arm. A thick five inch long nail is embedded in his skin, just below his wrist. His eyes flick up to the clock on the wall. 4:00.

The gun attached to Chris' chest tilts back, and fires three of six bullets into the ceiling. Chris screams through his gag, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. He watches the slick crimson liquid pour from the wound and creates rivers down Leon's arm before dripping to the growing pool on the floor. The gun tilts back and is again pointed at his chest.

Leon constantly looks between the clock and the men before him. As it hits three minutes, there's another bang from somewhere behind him, and a new wave of pain shoots up his arm. This time, the nail is pierced through the tender skin near his elbow. The gun attached to Chris' chest tilts back and fires the remaining 3 bullets into the ceiling. He's breathing hard and shaking.

Leon shakes his head in an attempt to clear it of the pain. His gaze falls to Wesker's own, his demonic eyes a golden yellow color. A silent understanding passes between the two. Leon's breaths are coming fast and uneven as he takes better hold of the second mechanism. At two minutes, another loud bang echoes throughout the room, this time the pain flowing through Leon's right wrist. He hisses out, the second wound symmetrical to the first. The gun attached to Wesker's chest tilts back, firing three of its six bullets into the ceiling as well. The process repeats at the final minute, and he holds on tightly until the timer is up.

The door to the interrogation room swings open and Leon released the grips, staggering towards it. He braces himself on the frame momentarily, trying to catch his breath. The room is spinning and he's slightly dizzy, but he fights through the pain. He manages to make it to Wesker, untying the rope wrapped around his wrists, before collapsing to his hands and knees on the floor.

Wesker pulls the contraption from his chest and tosses it aside, rushing to the collapsed blond.

"Leon." Wesker shakes him, getting a moan as a response. He gets up and unties Chris, who wipes the tears from his eyes and tosses away his own contraption. He kneels down by Leon, looking at Wesker with fearful eyes.

"Who could do something like this?"

Wesker's lips tilt ever so slightly in a frown.

"There's a notorious murderer rampant named Jigsaw. He will always provide a decision to the person of his choice that has history with the victim or victims, which usually results in that person letting the victims die and watching in satisfaction. Most of his traps are escapable, through severe amounts of pain and vary from things like sulfuric acid to burning alive to having your jaws permanently ripped open."

Chris is appalled by this. He checks his pockets and holsters.

"All my herbs and weapons are gone."

Wesker grips the nails in Leon's left arm and rips them out, then does the same to the ones in his right arm. He slides off his coat and tears off the sleeves of his black shirt, tying one around each of Leon's wrists then slides his coat back on.

"We need to find a way out of here." Chris stands and looks about the room.

"There is no way out. The only way to escape is to play Jigsaw's sadistic game to the very end."

Leon's regains his composure and pushes himself up to a sitting position.

"Leon!"

His eyes fall on Chris, then Wesker. He lets out a sigh.

"I'm glad your both safe."

Chris reaches under Leon's arm and helps him to his feet.

"I'll be fine." He gently pushes the brunet aside and stares at the open door across the room.

"I should go first," the agent says calmly, despite his inner turmoil. He knew if he fucked up he would risk both Chris and Wesker's lives. There might be a point where he has to choose between their lives and his own. His heart throbbed at the thought. If this so called 'Jigsaw' knew his weakness was his empathetic heart, he would fully exploit it.

Leon walks through the door, arms hanging at his sides. The hallway is long and decrepit; the once white walls are covered in years worth of dust, grime, and blood. Fluorescent lights hang from the roof, some broken, some flickering, and providing poor visibility of the floor.

"How many people have walked through these halls? How many people have died here?" Chris asks, his voice echoing slightly.

"It ends today."

Chris and Wesker share a look at the agents tone.

"Leon, you must be careful. Your determination is admirable but you must not lose focus on the greater picture. Some lives are not meant to be saved, by consequence or inevitability. No matter what happens, you mustn't blame yourself over spilled blood, or a life lost."

Chris scoffs and chuckles at the blond's words, meeting his gaze as they walk.

"Since when did you become so wise and all knowing? Last time I checked, you were more selfish than any of us. He can make his own choices."

Wesker sighs and looks ahead.

"Leon?"

The man is nowhere in sight and the two run down the hall, turning and seeing him opening the next door.

"Wait!" Chris yells and Leon stops, turning to look at them. Thick metal bars fly up from holes in the floor across the room, all 6 inches apart. They formed a perfect line, separating him from his allies. Chris and Wesker reach him and Chris pulls at the bars, but they do not budge.

"Damnit!" Chris curls his fist and strikes one of the bars. Leon frowns and grips the bars, looking at Chris deeply.

"Sorry."

There's a tape recorder on the floor near his feet. He picked it up and pressed play. Whatever his next challenge, he would have to face it alone.

"Hello Leon. You are twenty-five percent closer to your freedom. Your every action will cost each of you dearly, so make sure you think twice before deciding who will live and who will die. What will you not sacrifice to save another life? The next test will push you to your limits and test your capacity for selflessness. Across from you hang two syringes, filled with a serum to aid the neurotoxins flowing through your companions blood streams. As time goes on, they will find it becoming increasingly difficult to control their bodies. Although the serum is not vital to their survival, it may become fatal if left untreated too long, and will aid you in your tests. Collect the vials before the time runs out and they shatter or simply let the clock hit zero, and spare yourself the pain and suffering. Let the game begin."

The tape stops and the true nature of the second test is revealed. From the point where he is standing, the entire floor is littered with bear traps, so close to one another that not stepping on one would be impossible. Across the room, hanging from opposite corners, are small syringes filled with a clear liquid. The digital clock lights up, reading exactly twenty five minutes, and begins slowly counting down.

"Leon, no. It's not worth it." Chris reaches through the bars in an attempt to grab the man's arm and restrain him, but Leon is quicker, stepping back out of reach.

"Don't do this! Just wait it out!" Chris begs, unsure if he can witness the man endure that much pain.

He turns his back on them and looks across the room, tuning out Chris' pleas. Attempting to move the one of the traps proved useless, as they were bolted to the concrete floor. They were pressure plates, the weight set to fifty or more pounds, so he couldn't activate one by tossing a shoe on it. If he jumped over a few, he would have to make the same jump on the return, and by then he would be too weak. Waiting the timer out wasn't an option; the needles would surely drop. He couldn't endanger their lives because he decided to be selfish. He never was, and wouldn't start now. He knew he had to go about it exactly the way it should be. He wasn't ecstatic about it, but it could have been worse. He had stepped on a bear trap, once, in Spain. Although it wasn't pleasant, the pain wasn't unbearable. But it had only been one. As his eyes scanned the length of the room, he imagined he would end up stepping no less than twelv. He could get tetanus from the rusty spikes piercing his skin, go into shock from the amount of pain, or die from blood loss. He wouldn't be able to activate them all on the same leg, as it would be rendered useless, nor could he let his skin be penetrated in the same place more than two or three times, causing permanent damage that would severely decrease his ability in these sadistic games. He could activate a few with his hands, but his arms had already suffered slight damage and he couldn't risk the loss of muscle control in his hands. He couldn't help but wonder. Would the game go on if he died?

"Six on the left, six on the right." Leon said to himself quietly, focusing on the task at hand. All he had to do was make it to the needles and collect them in 21 minutes and 57 seconds. Once they were safely in his possession, Chris and Wesker would be able to help him return via the triggered traps. He walked up to the first line, looking down at the rusty spikes on the first trap. He took a deep breath and stepped on it.

The trap snapped shut with a metallic clang as the jaws bit into the flesh of his left leg. He bit his lip hard and let out a muffled groan, leaning down and putting his weight on the releases on either side of the trap, opening it enough to free his leg but not reset it. It had only pierced two places, and the wounds weren't too deep, only bleeding minimally. He stood in the now free place of the activated trap and took his second step. He hardly held back a sound of pain and repeated the same process as the first. He was making good time, with just over 18 minutes remaining. He stepped onto the third trap.

Everything changed as the metal tore even deeper into his already injured leg, snapping closed tight in the open wounds. A small spurt of blood ran down the metal. He let out a cry of pain and he became dizzy for a few moments. As he released himself he got an idea, albeit too late. He simple could have wrapped the fabric from their spare clothing around his legs, at the height at which the traps would pierce his skin, to shield him from a fair amount of damage and pain.

"Fuck." He cursed at himself. How could he have been so stupid? His resolve was already swaying. What if the entire thing had been designed only to weaken him? He had no proof that what Jigsaw spoke was true. For all he knew, it could be water in the syringes. Both Chris and Wesker had shown no negative effects that would suggest they actually had been subject to a deadly neurotoxin. He hated himself for jumping headfirst into this mess. As long as those syringes had the possibility, if only a slight one, of aiding the two men, he had to continue on.

The clock hit the 15 minute mark as Leon stepped on the forth trap, letting out a verbal response to indicate his growing pain. What if he didn't make it in time? He lifted his head as he released himself. The first syringe was almost in his reach. There were steady streams of blood trickling down both of his legs at this point. Somewhere at the back of his mind, a rational voice sounded, telling him he would surely die from this game, if not this specific test, even if he managed to complete it. He pushed the voice aside; there was no turning back, especially when it came to the well-being of two of the most important people to him.

He completed the fifth and sixth traps in the same manner. Step. Scream. Release. Repeat. He reached out for the syringe and pulled it free of the string, taking a moment to squeeze it in his palm and take deep breaths. He was halfway. With just under 12 minutes remaining. He could do this. Right? He slipped it into one of the bands on his jeans and turned. He could see the two men in his peripheral vision and it made the task harder as he could tell Chris was visibly shaken. The man was a hardened soldier, but had never had to suffer anything like the likes of this. Chris was shaking and his hands were covering his mouth. He didn't have to see to know Chris was crying. He felt his cheeks become wet and wiped away the tears. Even Wesker was gripping the bars with an iron grip, clearly torn that he couldn't use his powers to warp the metal and come to Leon's aid. Leon couldn't afford to become distracted, for their sakes. He would be reunited with the men shortly, and he could tell Chris that everything would be alright, and assure Wesker no real harm had come of him.

Leon continued, making his way towards the second syringe, suspended in the air by the thin string. Another thought struck him suddenly. What if he didn't even need to retrieve the second syringe? Both men could be injected with a half portion to survive long enough to escape and receive medical attention. Unless the amount administered had to be precise…

Leon let out a scream of pure agony as he stepped on the ninth trap. He swayed and had to collapse against the wall for support as he panted. His heart was racing, increasing the rate of which he was losing blood. As he looked up at the needle, only three traps separating him from his salvation, his vision began to lose focus and become blurry. He couldn't properly read the time on the clock, but was sure there were only 3 numbers showing. He released himself and became numb, working like a robot with one function, one task, as he stepped on the tenth and eleventh traps. As he leaned down to release his leg, he couldn't find the strength to create enough counterweight to free it from the trap, no matter how hard he tried. Even leaning into it, he was too weak to properly balance his weight, and swayed dangerously. He let out a frustrated howl. As he straightened, he tried to gauge the distance between him and the syringe. He would have to attempt to reach it from where he was. It couldn't have been more than two and a half feet away. A loud beeping noise began to fill the room as the timer began counting down the last ten seconds. He would have to attempt to give himself some leverage. He threw himself forward, arm outstretched, and reached for the syringe as he lost his balance and fell. When he hit the last trap, it closed around his shoulder and bicep, and he let out a pained gasp. His eyes fluttered and he felt himself losing consciousness. Was this it? Would he die in this god forsaken place, a pawn at the hand of a madman? His eyes flicked to his hand, fingers curled tightly around the syringe, and his lips tilted in the faintest of smiles. It had been worth it.

"LEON!" Chris didn't even recognize the voice as his own as he watched the man fall and lay unmoving, caught in the traps like a helpless animal that had accepted its inevitable fate.

The bars were released and fell back into the floor, allowing the men access into the room. Chris made his way towards the path that had been cleared through the traps, but Wesker was faster. He used his heightened eyesight and agility to carefully but quickly run to Leon. He freed the agent from the traps, taking care to remove the syringes from his person before lifting him into his arms bridal style. Leon's head fell back; his lips parted slightly, stained red from the blood inside his mouth. Wesker made his way back to safety and gently lay Leon on the floor. Both Wesker and Chris fell to their knees on either side of him, taking in his abused body. Chris' breath came out in shallow gasps as he cried. There was so much blood. It soaked the bottom half of Leon's torn pants completely and caked his exposed skin in a mixture of wet and dry crimson.

"How could you? How could you!" He fell forward and cried into the man's chest, soaking Leon's shirt with his tears. He clutched at the fabric, wishing he had kept an eye on Leon. If he hadn't let the man out of his sight, none of this would have happened. They could have equally suffered the pain. Leon wouldn't have had to hurt so much before…

Wesker reached into his coat and produced the vials. They were small and held very little promise and meaning to him. On their own, they were nothing. Inadequate and worthless. He wouldn't have risked injected himself over the empty promise of a cure for an affliction he may not even be suffering from. But now, after Leon had risked the most precious and valuable thing he possessed, his life, the two objects held a special sentiment and purpose. He clenched his fist around them firmly.

He flicked his gaze to the brunet across from him, sobbing and crying out their fallen lover's name. He and Chris had almost nothing in common, from things like favorite model of muscle car or the most effective way to silence a weapon, to being an optimist versus a pessimist and their overall view on people. But they had one thing in common, and it was the man that lay on the stone cold floor, suffering because of a sick game he was forced to play in multiple attempts to save their lives. As soon as he took a dose of his serum, he would hunt Jigsaw down and kill him with his own hands. Slowly. He would chase the man to the farthest ends of the Earth if that's what it took. He owed Leon that much, at least.

The door across from the men swung wide. Wesker lifted his head, his eyes following a single beam of light shining on a neatly wrapped present. He narrowed his eyes, wondering if it was some sort of cunning trick. He figured he had nothing to lose, and really, he didn't. He set the syringes aside and stood, making his way to the box and lifting it. It wasn't very large; he could hold it in both hands. He gripped a strand of the silk bow between his thumb and forefinger, unravelling it. He removed the lid and stared down into the box's contents. Two small rolls of bandage and a needle with a white sticky note attached. He lifted it, taking in the quickly written, thick font that read: epinephrine. His eyes widened in shock. Their captor had sent a care package for Leon. Jigsaw mustn't have intended for Leon to die so early on in the game.

Wesker spun on his heel and returned to his place by Leon's side. Chris lifted his head, his eyes pink and his cheeks wet with tears.

"What is that?" He asked in a shaky voice. Wesker simply pushed the man back and pulled off the cap of the syringe with his teeth, driving it into Leon's chest. He injected half of the adrenaline and tossed the syringe aside as he folded his hands on Leon's chest, pushing hard, in even, repetitive rhythms, attempting to restart his heart. He gritted his teeth and used increasingly growing force. He didn't want to break any of the younger man's ribs, but soon he wouldn't have much choice. He tossed one of the rolls of bandage to Chris, who caught it in surprise. Wesker began wrapping the bandage around Leon's right leg. Most of the damage was just below the knee. He wrapped the entirety of the wound and tied the bandage off. Chris finished shortly after him.

 _"_ _Leon, wake up…"_

 _"_ _Leon?"_

 _Whose voice was that? It was rough around the edges, but held a soft tone hidden within. One you wouldn't hear unless you knew to search for it. He tried to move but couldn't control his body. He couldn't even open his eyes. He felt disconnected, somehow… from himself, from the world… where was he?_

 _He tried to make some sense of time. Of what happened to land him in this place (could he even call it that?) made entirely of nothingness. He didn't have to see to know he was surrounded by a vast emptiness. The only thing he was truly aware of was the voice, calling to him from somewhere… beyond. Beyond where? He did not know, but it was very distant._

 _He wasn't dead. Somehow he knew that. This wasn't the grand finale. Perhaps he was in a coma? Or part of a very twisted nightmare?_

 _"_ _It's not working…"_

 _"_ _Give him time. There's still hope."_

 _A second voice chimed in. This one was gruff, but the tone cracked slightly as he spoke. Had this person been crying? Leon wasn't sure, but it made his heart throb. Perhaps these people could jumpstart his brain, somehow… He was sure he could wake if only he had more information. All he knew at the moment, for certain, was his name. Leon._

Chris and Wesker sat back against the wall, both keeping an eye on Leon but giving him some space. Wesker held out one of the syringes and Chris took it, playing with it.

"So… care to enlighten me on what you did to him that landed you in here?" Chris watched as the blond rolled up his sleeves and expertly injected the serum into his vein. He followed suit and spun the empty syringe around his bloody fingers.

"Perhaps it would be best if you said first. I am sure what you did to him pales in comparison to what I did."

Chris let out a broken sound, somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle.

"Last year, in the fall. We had been dating casually for a couple of months, but nothing serious. We didn't live far from one another, practically one street apart. Every day for a week he begged me to go to this festival that was being celebrated over the long weekend. Guess it was some sort of moving amusement park that they packed into the back of a couple dozen semi-trailers and moved around the state. I finally gave in and told him we could go, not really interested. Things like that were for people who had time to waste, or who wanted to impress their girlfriends by overpaying to win rigged games for cheaply made stuffed animals.

"When the day came, he had been so ecstatic. He told me how he had always wanted to go to an amusement park in his childhood and teens, but I guess the relationship he shared with his family was stressed, to say the least, and he never ended up going before then. I drove across the city, pissed off by the increased amount of stupid drivers and the near impossibility of finding a parking space. We ended up parking a mile or so away, in the slummy part of the city. We stood in line to enter for nearly an hour. I was already fed up before we had gone inside, but he was happy so I figured I would at least let him go on one or two of the rides.

"When we got to the ticket booth, I just about blew a gasket. They wanted two dollars per ticket, and every attraction required 4 to 8 tickets to ride. I didn't want to pay for something I wasn't going to enjoy, so I lied and told him I forgot my wallet. I said that I would just watch him enjoy himself and waited by the gate. When he came over, he had two huge bundles of tickets in his hand. Ended up paying a couple hundred dollars. He handed one of the bundles to me and smiled. As we went inside, I busied myself with folding the tickets and shoving them in my pocket. My eye caught on a pretty, younger blond girl that must've hardly been in her twenties. She was bickering with a man that kept grabbing her wrist and trying to drag her off.

"'I'm going to get in line for the rollercoaster.' He'd said and run off. I approached the man and threw him away from her, and told him if he had any issues he could address them to me. He glared and walked away. She immediately thanked me and told me it was her ex-boyfriend, who had been stalking her. I offered to stay with her, in case he returned, and she seemed relieved. We began talking and I realized we had quite a bit in common. Her eyes shined and her laugh was infectious… By the time we made it to the rollercoaster, Leon was standing at the front of the line. He had been letting people past him while he waited for me. He smiled when he saw me but it fell away as he looked at the girl that had taken a hold of my hand.

"'Awesome, your friends at the front of the line!' She pushed him aside and pulled me up the steps and we sat in the car. Leon was stopped by the carnie who said there were no more seats left. He looked at me, confused and hurt, but I didn't even notice. I was too infatuated with the girl, who was ecstatic about the ride. In her presence, I actually enjoyed myself and we used the bundle of tickets Leon had purchased within a few hours. I bought her a cotton candy and watched as she happily munched on the pink material. It had slowly begun to rain, a few drops here and there, before opening up to a torrential downpour. I took my jacket off and lay it over her shoulders as we made our way to the front gates. As we were ready to go our separate ways, she kissed me. In a daze, I kissed her back, and when we parted I looked over the top of her head.

"There he was, standing not thirty feet away, staring right at me. He was completely soaked, the bundle of red tickets hanging from his hand and dangling in the mud. He hadn't even gone on a single ride. The look on his face… It was pure sorrow and agony. The only thing I could compare it to is the look someone gets when you tell them they only have a few days left to live. Like he would never smile or be happy again. Before I could even open my mouth he turned and fled. I grabbed my jacket off the girl's shoulders and ran after him, but the rain made it hard to see and he escaped me. I prayed he would come back to my truck. I must have waited for hours, but he never showed. He was alone in a bad part of town with no weapons and no means of getting home. I don't even know what happened to him after that, but he wouldn't answer any of my calls and ignored me when I knocked. I felt horrible for what I did to him, and never had a chance to make things right. Somehow he had managed to sell his place and move out while I was at work the next day. When I came back, every sign of him was gone."

 _He remembered that day. Thinking about it, even now, still made a small bolt of pain shoot through his heart. That man… Chris... Chris Redfield, had tossed him away like garbage. It was probably his worst break up. He ended up walking through the city in the pouring rain, soaking wet and shivering from the cold. Even through all that rain, he could tell which drops of water were his tears. He kept his head down as he walked, and was stopped by a man fucked up on drugs with a knife that threatened his life over his wallet. He'd held up his hands and carefully handed the man his wallet. Upon finding its contents empty, the man grabbed him by the arm and pulled up his sleeve roughly, cutting his wrist deeply before running off. He hissed in pain and looked at the wound, the blood watered down and washing away on the rain. He covered it with his hand and trudged on. A car sped by and swerved to intentionally hit a large puddle that had collected on the side of the curb. The muddy water sprayed over him and he wiped his eyes with the palm of his hand as he heard the occupants of the car laughing as they drove away._

"Wow. And you said I only cared about myself. Looks like we have more in common than we thought," the blond said. Chris scoffed. The man was completely right. He'd thought Wesker was the monster. Turns out they both were.

"So, care to share your sins?" Chris asks sarcastically. He could see why Leon used sarcasm to mask his pain.

"Wasn't too long after you broke up. A few months. I was sitting in the corner of some sleazy bar, watching him get wasted to the point where the bartender refused to serve him. I was instantly drawn to him. A man like that had a story worth listening to. I whistled to catch his attention and waved him over. He was well dressed, and smelled like cheap whiskey and smokes. I ordered myself another drink and told him I was listening. He voiced how he got cheated on by his boyfriend with some slutty little bimbo. The 'man of his dreams'. I told him that the moron wasn't worth his thoughts, and that he deserved much better. Guess it wasn't far from the truth."

Chris glared at Wesker and hit him on the shoulder hard.

"You fucked up too. Keep going."

"Next thing I know, he's sitting on my lap and telling me he wants me. Naturally, I'm not going to say no," Wesker smirked, "especially to someone so good looking. He couldn't keep his hands off me. Didn't even make it home. I fucked him in the back seat of my car."

"Yeah, skip the sex scenes, thanks." Chris rolled his eyes.

"The next day when I woke up, he was still in the bed. No one I had slept with stayed after the night. They knew to leave. I considered throwing him out, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I noticed a nasty scar on his wrist, and a couple of faded bite marks. When he woke, I asked him about it. He told me that the one on his wrist was from the night he got dumped and attacked, and the bite marks were from Raccoon City."

"What? He got attacked?" Chris pushed off the wall and reached out, taking the younger mans arm in his hand. He turned it over, and sure enough, there was a jagged scar running horizontally over it, like someone tore the skin with a serrated blade. He had never known what happened to Leon after he ran off. He should have tried harder to find the man. It was his fault he had gotten hurt.

"Imagine my surprise. One of the only three Raccoon City survivors had found his way into my bed. I hadn't even known his name until then. Leon Kennedy. The Leon who had survived bites from the T-virus carrying zombies without becoming infected. The Leon I had sent both Ada and Krauser to dispatch of in Spain. I knew I could take advantage of him in his vulnerable state. I convinced him to stay with me and had tricked him into believing I cared for him, although somewhere along the way I truly did. I could never tell him of my experiments with the viruses, everything I hoped to achieve was everything he stood against.

"I took blood and tissue samples from him after slipping him some sedatives. I was keen on discovering how his cells fought the virus, but I wouldn't be able to fully understand it unless I could get samples while the virus cells were in his blood stream and collect the antibodies that fought them. If I could collect the proper data, I would be able to create a vaccine that would not only stop a person from becoming infected, but also reverse the infection in an infected.

"I threw him in a room with one of the infected. He was still fighting the effects of the sedative and stood no chance against the creature. It jumped on him and took him to the floor, biting into his neck and tearing out the skin. I took my time, making sure he had been exposed to the microorganisms in the creature's bite, before stepping in and finishing it off. He had been in hysteria. He cried in my arms and told me what really happened in raccoon city; how he still had nightmares from everything he had suffered through. Though I felt remorse for him, I injected him with another sedative. As he fell unconscious, the look he gave me showed he knew I had intentionally put him in that situation. I extracted all the data I needed, but I was unable to create a vaccine. The mutagen inside his body that allowed him to be immune to the t-virus was unable to be transferred to any other living being.

"When he woke, he was screaming at me, about how he trusted me and I used the things he told me against him. He tried to leave and it infuriated me. I showed him my true nature and told him he was never going to be leaving. He tried to run but I grabbed him by the wrist and pulled in to me. His fighting was becoming annoying and I striked him across the face. In his stupor, I threw him on the floor and had my way with him. After that, he didn't try to leave. I believe part of him enjoyed the physical pain, as a way to mask his emotional turmoil.

"One day, things got out of hand and I threatened to experiment on him. I imagine the look he gave me was similar to the one he gave you. I knew I had crossed the line, and feared for his well-being. I threw him outside and he looked so unsure of what to do. I had to poison myself with the serum so I wouldn't go after him. Had he stayed with me, his existence would have been ended."

Chris looked completely mortified.

"And I thought I was an asshole? You take the cake." He pulled at the younger man's collar and exposed the bite mark. The skin was roughly threaded and pulled taut, the white scar tissue still visible. It covered the area where Leon's neck and shoulder met. He ran his fingers over the raised skin lightly.

 _"_ _Oh, Leon…"_

 _"_ _You deserve so much better."_

 _Leon could feel a soft touch over his skin, making it tingle. The sensation was pleasant. He couldn't remember the last time someone had touched him so… lovingly. He didn't want the feeling to stop. There was a sudden pressure on both of his hands, tight, but not unkind._

 _"_ _We have to be there for him. This is so much bigger than just you and me."_

 _He could feel himself being pulled out of the void of nothingness by two strong, sure holds._

 _"_ _Leon? Leon!"_

Leon's eyes slowly fluttered open. He squinted at the bright fluorescent lights overhead.

"Shit, that's bright…"

"Oh my god, you pulled through!" Chris sighed in relief.

"What?" Leon struggled to sit up, but a strong hand pushed him back gently.

"You need to take your time. You almost died."

Leon blinked several times, his eyes adjusting to the shitty lighting. His gaze fell on the blond and brunet men leaning over him, concerned expressions covering their faces. As his eyes scanned their features, he smiled weakly.

"It was worth it."

Leon took a deep breath and sat up. He was a mess, no doubt about it, but alive, and quite thankful for it. He licked his lips and tasted copper.

"There's half a syringe of adrenaline left. You can use it whenever you feel you need to." Wesker said and Leon nodded, taking the syringe and pocketing it.

"We should get going. There's no point in waiting any longer." Leon pushed himself to his feet. He swayed slightly but felt okay, all things considered. It seemed the adrenaline was doing its job for now.

Leon pushed the metal door open fully and stepped into the hall. There were red arrows painted on the walls, pointing them in the direction of the next test.

"You know, this place kind of looks like an old college." Leon said. They tried all the doors on either side of the hall, but all were locked and boarded up. The arrows pointed down a set of concrete stairs and they descended to the basement level. The air down here was stale, dust particles stirring as they continued. Leon stopped at the door marked with a red 'X' in spray paint. He slowly reached out and gripped the knob, turning it and pushing the door open, hinges creaking. He stepped into the room with Chris and Wesker behind him. A light shone down on a small table with a tape recorder on it. Leon walked up and took it in his hand, pressing the play button.

"Hello Leon. I must apologize for your mishap earlier. Death is distasteful. By now you must have felt a slight change in your views on my work. Every person that has been subject to my tests has had a chance to live. You see, those who don't appreciate life do not deserve life."

There was a pause in the tape as the lights turned on, revealing a large pool in in the centre of the floor. Above it hung a large metal structure of sorts, suspended above the water twenty feet. At the same moment, their eyes fell on a young red headed girl, tied to a pole on a platform in the water. Leon and Chris instinctively took steps forward.

"Claire!" At the sound of her name, Claire turned her head and cried out words, muffled by the cloth gag tied around her mouth.

"Once again you will be the hero in your story, though you will soon find that sometimes, you must be the villain. Before you lies perhaps your greatest yet most simple challenge. You must climb across the maze to rescue your friend and return with her back to safety before the timer reaches zero. You may be wondering what the catch is. The water beneath you has been electrified with a current of over 100 mill amperes, enough to trigger cardiac arrest if you come in contact with it. For every minute that passes, the maze will drop twelve inches closer to the water. If you simply decide to wait out the timer, the platform on which she is standing will submerge into the water. If you want to get her back, you will have to play the game."

The recording stops suddenly and Leon drops it. A static noise fills the room and the water cracks dangerously with electricity. The timer on the wall reads 10 minutes and begins counting down.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Help her!" Chris screams at Leon, startling him. He looks at the metal device. There's a ladder next to an opening, clearly too small for Wesker or Chris to fit through. The technicalities had been made so only he would fit through. He hadn't used his injured shoulder and arm, and wondered if he would be able to handle holding his body weight suspended in the air.

Chris grabs his wrist roughly and pulls him to the ladder, pushing him towards it. He stumbles and looks at the brunet, a hurt expression on his face.

"Chris, I'm not sure if I can-"

"You damn well will try!" He yells. "You're wasting precious time. Go!"

Leon climbed up the ladder and slipped through the opening, taking grip of the metal bars. As he adjusted, the ladder slipped from under him and fell into the pool with a splash. His body swung unexpectedly and one of his hands slipped. He quickly threw it up and regained his hold, heart racing. He looked across the expanse of water at Claire, who was in the centre of the pool. He swung his weight and gripped the next bar. His injured shoulder was already aching. As the clock hit 9 minutes, the entire structure fell a foot suddenly. Leon cried out as the sudden stop jarred his muscles painfully.

"Hurry the fuck up!" Chris was yelling at him, his voice echoing through the large space.

Leon continued to swing across the bars, slowly getting closer to the bound red head that was struggling and letting out muffled noises. The structure dropped again and he couldn't help but cry out. His muscles were becoming increasingly stiff and sore, making the task more difficult with every second that passed. He dropped onto the platform in a crouch and ran up to Claire, removing the gag from her mouth.

"Oh Leon, thank god!" She sobbed tears of joy as he began to untie her wrists and ankles. Once free, she pulled him into a tight embrace. He returned it and inhaled her scent, which smelled faintly of cherries and freshly cut grass.

"We're halfway there. Think you can manage?" He took her hand and squeezed. She nodded and he grabbed her around the waist, lifting her up so she could reach the bars. Once he was sure she had a good grip, he let go and jumped up behind her. His eye caught the clock. They had 6 and a half minutes to go.

"Take your time, alright?"

Claire nodded and begun swinging herself across the expanse slowly and Leon followed closely. They made good progress, well over half way when the structure dropped another foot. Claire was mid swing, and lost her grip. She cried out and Leon's hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. As he stopped her from falling, the strain pulled hard on the muscles of his injured arm, barely keeping her suspended four feet above the water.

"Claire!" Chris was screaming her name frantically. She looked up at Leon, tears streaming down her face.

"I'm scared…" She whispered, her voice cracking. Leon looked into her bright eyes, full of fear.

He tried to swing them forward, but even with the proper momentum he wouldn't be able to throw her into her brother's arms. The distance was too far, time was short, and he was running out of options. He gritted his teeth and tried to pull her higher, but was unsuccessful. Light as she was, he was too weak to support their combined weight. He felt his fingers slipping on the bar that had become wet from his sweaty hand, and the structure dropped again. He threw his head back let out a scream in frustration. He wouldn't let her die.

"Leon… it's okay. If you hold on much longer I'm just going to take you with me…"

"No! Don't say that!" He looked back into Claire's eyes. Saw the intent shining in those deep pools of emotion. She uncurled her fingers from his wrist and his own fingers began sliding up her arm.

"Don't do this! Claire!" Claire ignored his protests and turned her head, looking Chris in the eyes.

"I love you, big brother." She let her weight go dead and slipped free of Leon's hold. Chris creamed. Leon desperately clawed the air where she had been a moment ago. She plunged into the water with a splash, causing the static waves to lap at the edge of the pool, and did not surface.

"NO!" Chris threw himself towards the water and Wesker wrapped his arms around the brunet from behind, pulling him back and stopping his attempt to dive into the water after his sister. He pushed Wesker aside and turned his back to everything, hitting his fist on the wall and letting out guttural cries of agony. Wesker ran to the edge of the pool, only twenty feet separating him from Leon.

"You have to hurry!" He urged. Leon hung there, staring at his hand in disbelief. He had let Claire Redfield die… it had been his entire fault.

"Leon Kennedy listen to me! If you do not wish to die here today, you will come to me!" He raised his head at Wesker's sharp tone. Wesker was right. He didn't truly want to die, although he felt like it because of the pain of losing Claire. He threw his arm up and gripped the bars, continuing on. The structure dropped and the clock began counting down its last minute. He moved as quickly as he could. He reached the end as the clock began ticking its final ten seconds, and threw himself into Wesker's arms. The blond caught him and quickly stepped back as the structure dropped and submerged, splashing water over the edges of the pool. Leon clung to the blond tightly, his arms around Wesker's shoulders as he panted hard. As the true impact of what had happened sunk in, he trembled with a mix of emotions. Wesker set him down gently and he gave the blond a nod of thanks before turning his attention to the brunet.

Chris was on his knees, at the edge of the water that coated the floor, staring into the depths of the pool. His fists were clenched tightly; the skin over his knuckles was torn and bleeding. He wondered if the smaller bones in Chris' hands were broken. He made his way to the brunet's side, hesitating. What could he possibly say to the man? That he was sorry? That everything was going to be okay? He bit his lip. Chris had been furious with him while Claire was still alive. He knew he would incur the man's wrath by speaking, but he had to try.

"Chris, I-"

In a moment Chris was on his feet. He grabbed Leon by the collar, making him let out a gasp in surprise.

"Don't even start! There's nothing you can say that will ever make me forgive you for killing my sister!"

"Chris, it wasn't my fault… she let go of my hand…" The younger man attempted. He saw stars as Chris punched him across the face, hard. His head snapped to the side painfully, and felt a trickle of blood fall from his nose. He heard Wesker approaching and gave the man a look that told him it was alright.

"You can hit me as much as you want, but it won't change what happened." Chris raised his fist a second time but stopped himself, his fingers curling more tightly in Leon's shirt.

"Don't talk to me. Don't even look at me. You disgust me. Starting from the moment we escape, I never want to see or hear from you again." Chris pushed Leon back roughly, making him stumble back a few steps. He paced to the other side of the room, not trying to hide his profanities, and Leon bowed his head. He deserved far worse than the treatment the brunet was giving him. He swallowed roughly and made his way towards the next door, having opened during their quarrel, and didn't look behind him to see if the other men were following.

Wesker followed Leon closely. He'd wanted to give Chris a taste of his own medicine. The man was so fucking selfish and hotheaded; it was the biggest reason why they had never really gotten along. Leon was continuing on in a sort of comatose state. His mind, body, and spirit had all suffered some sort of physical or emotional damage. Everything the man had suffered through had been so he could save his and Chris' lives. Chris, the selfish bastard, couldn't give a damn anymore about it. The irony of it reminded him of a song he'd heard. He'd never been much for music, but as he thought of the sacrifices Leon was constantly making, parts of the lyrics of the song seemed to complement his situation perfectly.

 _I watched it all up close, I knew him more than most,_

 _I saw a side of him he never showed._

 _Full of sympathy for a world that wouldn't let him be._

 _What a shame, what a shame,_

 _To judge a life that you can't change._

 _The choir sings, the church bells ring, so won't you give this man his wings?_

Wesker couldn't help wondering when the man would stop blindly sacrificing himself for the people he cared about. He'd known in the past Leon had made many companions and had been helpless to save them, watching them die before his eyes. He wondered if each of those people had taken a small piece of the man's heart with their deaths. The man had far too much empathy and compassion even for people he didn't know. He was a martyr. And as much as Wesker willed it to be a bad thing, he knew Leon was probably the more pure soul he had ever met. Both he and Chris had done horrible things to him. They really didn't deserve his mercy.

Leon threw open the door to the next room, the quick motion making him feel faint. He braced his hand on the wall and looked up. The room was relatively small, perhaps an office space. There was a dilapidated desk in the corner and torn papers littered the floor. In the centre of the room, something large covered with a big piece of material. Wesker and Chris entered the room and the door behind them swung shut, metal blocks locking into the frame. Wesker approached the hidden structure and removed the tape recorder from the top, pressing play.

"Hello Leon. You have nearly completed the game. Your freedom lies on the other side of this door. You do not have to face your final task alone, although you may find the help you require from the men in the room to prove difficult. The human body is an astoundingly durable creation. It contains approximately ten pints of blood. Yet it is still able to operate with just half of that. The device before you is one of sacrifice. A sacrifice of blood. In order to open the door, the beaker must be filled to the marked level. A level that is of no coincidence. This amount can come from any one of you. But that does not matter. What does matter is time. If you do not complete this task within 15 minutes, the doors will be sealed forever and this room shall become your tomb. So now I ask you: How much blood will you give in order to survive?"

As the tape stopped, Wesker tossed the tape aside and gripped the material, pulling it off of the structure. The digital clock on the wall began counting down. The blades in the case whirred to life, spinning so fast they created a metallic screeching noise that filled the room. It was a large table with 6 openings on the side, each allowing access to one of six saw blades protruding from it. Taped to the side was a hand drawn diagram of the anatomy of the human hand and arm, showing all the major arteries, veins, and nerves. He tore it off and assessed it thoroughly. An arrow pointed to the space between the middle and ring fingers, a long black line drawn through the flesh of the forearm. The line was drawn over the inch of flesh between the interosseous and ulnar arteries and veins. A place that could be safely cut in order to draw the required amount, without causing severe blood loss or long term damage. Chris grabbed the diagram from Wesker and looked it over.

"There is no fucking way I'm cutting my arm in half!" He tore of the paper and let the pieces fall to the floor before Leon had a chance to analyze its contents.

"You don't have much of a choice at this point. Endure the intense pain, although nominal in the long run compared to the pain of starving to death, and find your freedom. Or slowly rot away. I, for one, chose the former." Wesker rolled up the sleeves of his coat and removed his leather gloves, pocketing them. Chris growled, clearly pissed.

"Why should I have to sacrifice blood and pain? It's his test, make him do it!" He glared at the injured man leaning on the wall. Wesker grabbed Chris by the shirt and stared him down.

"Leon simply does not have enough blood left in his body to give, and even if he could, it wouldn't be enough to cover both your portion and his. Now man up before I force your hand into the machine myself!" Wesker hissed, his voice radiating pure power and malice. Chris attempted to hold his glare but pulled away from the blond and turned his back on him. He put his hands over his face and screamed in frustration. Wesker took his place, standing in front of the third hole from the left. Chris joined him, standing to his right. Wesker eyed the beaker residing on the scale through the plexiglass.

"We need a total amount of fifteen pints. So 7.5 each." Leon watched as Wesker slipped his hand through the opening and lay it on the table, a few inches from the blade. Chris took several breaths and did the same. The two men shared a look before sliding their hands toward it, fingers spread so it lined up with the flesh between their middle and ring fingers. Chris screamed as the blade bit into his flesh, severing the sensitive skin before digging through the space between his knuckles. His free hand shot out and grabbed Wesker's, gripping it tightly for support through the pain. Wesker slid his own hand into the blade, at a quicker pace, gritting his teeth and returning the hold on Chris' hand. Their blood began dripping down the edges and into the beaker, a thin layer filling the bottom.

Leon wiped at his tears angrily. He hated that the men had to go through this because of him. It wasn't fair to them and they had done nothing to deserve the pain being inflicted upon them. A cracking noise filled the room and both men let out cries of pain as the saw sliced through bone and muscle, more than halfway through their hands. Only 3 of the 15 required pints had been filled, and there was just over 10 minutes remaining on the clock. Wesker pushed his hand through father, clearly the stronger willed of the two. The blade sliced through his wrist, spraying blood over the plexiglass in a large stripe. He continued to drive his arm further through as Chris was shaking his head, muttering things Leon couldn't understand. Wesker urged the man on but his resolve was swaying. As the blade reached his wrist he refused to go beyond that point. Wesker tore free of Chris' hand and gripped his elbow, forcing his arm in further, despite his cries of agony and pleas to stop.

Leon covered his ears and shut his eyes tightly, the horrifying scene haunting him to his very core. Experiencing it firsthand was horrid, but witnessing it was even worse. Half of the time had gone by and there were still 6 and a half pints remaining. Leon's eyes shot open as he remembered the half full syringe of epinephrine in his pocket. He removed it and without thinking stabbed it into his neck, pushing the plunger down. There was still something he could do to help. They were running out of time, and soon they would be forever trapped in the small room, to die of either oxygen deprivation or starvation. He rushed to Chris' side, his eyes wild and his heart racing as he removed his fingerless gloves and tossed them aside. He knew the sacrifice he was going to take, and was prepared to make it. There was no chance he would survive this, he was sure. He had already lost so much blood, and his mind had been spinning for the past hour.

Leon surprised both men with his presence as they turned their heads to look at him. He kept his gaze on the whirring blades as he put both hands through the slots and lay them on the table, driving the blades between his pointer and middle fingers. He let out a shrill cry but didn't stop.

"What are you doing? You're going to kill yourself!" Wesker yelled at him over the sound of tearing flesh.

"I can't risk your lives for this. You need to be strong enough to get help once we are free. I must do penance for what happened to Claire. Besides, I've already accepted my fate." His tone held a sad but sure finality to it. Before either man could stop him, he drove the blades quickly through his wrists and up the length of his forearms, severing the radial nerves and arteries. His blood hemorrhaged, spraying the insides of the box and began pouring into the beaker much faster than the other two men. He dared a glance at the clock. 3 minutes and 3 pints remaining. He let out a determined cry as he drove the blades farther up the length of his forearm to his elbow. His body was convulsing hard and all he was aware of were the high pitched wails of the saws tearing through flesh and the pain that filled him to his very core. His skin had taken on a sickly pale color and he could feel his heart beating too slowly and at an irregular pace. Chris and Wesker watched in astonishment as the younger males blood poured into the beaker, filling what remained and overflowing it. The timer stopped with 20 seconds remaining and the blades began to power down. Leon fell back and hit the floor, a pool of blood flowing from his arms.

"Leon!" His eyes were open but he was unresponsive as the men tried to get a reply out of him.

"He's lost too much blood; he's going to die very soon." Wesker stated as he removed his jacket. Chris helped him lift Leon into a sitting positon and Wesker slipped the younger man's arms through the jacket sleeves. Chris removed his shirt and began tearing the fabric into long strips. He tied them around the sleeves to keep pressure on the wounds and hold them together to lessen the bleeding.

"Oh, god… my last words to him…" Chris was muttering with guilt. Both men helped Leon a standing position, and the door swung open, revealing a set of stairs and bright daylight.

"Go find someone to call an ambulance, and quickly! I'll be right behind you." Wesker stated as he lifted the man into his arms, ignoring the shooting pain in his arm. Chris nodded and was outside in mere moments. He disregarded his own wounds, trails of red droplets following him as he made his way outside. They were in the slummy part of the city, mostly used for warehouses and storage. Leon had been right, as they had been inside an abandoned college from the early 2000's. He looked down into Leon's faded green eyes and Chris returned, the faint sounds of sirens in the distance.

"An ambulance is coming. I'm going to stay and deal with the police." The brunet looked at Leon, a pained expression on his face.

"Please, keep him alive."

Wesker nodded briskly and they made way to the road, an ambulance and three police cars pulling up. Chris flagged down the police and after a paramedic quickly bandaged his hand he began explaining what had happened. Wesker simply batted them aside when they tried to help him. He lay Leon on the gurney in the back of the ambulance and they connected him to a heart rate monitor, which indicated his heart was only beating 22 times per minute and descending. The paramedics began an ivy drip and prepared a blood transfusion. Suddenly Leon flat lined and they began chest compressions while the defibrillator charged. Wesker looked at his wounded arm and bowed his head. Jigsaw was going to pay.

Leon's eyes fluttered open. He took in the overly bright lights and details of the too-white room.

"Fuck… I've seen enough of white and red to last a lifetime." Leon grumbled as he sat up. Wesker was at his side instantly.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I came back from the dead," the agent said sarcastically and noticed the older man's expression.

"You died twice in the ambulance and once in the operating room… They have no idea how you are still alive. The surgeon tried to induce a coma so you could heal more quickly, but your body refused it."

Leon took in the blond's forlorn expression, and noticed the lack of a certain brunet.

"Where's Chris?" Leon asked quickly.

"He left a few minutes before you woke."

Leon threw the sheets off him and dropped off the side of the bed and looked out the window. Sure enough, he could see Chris walking towards the parking lot. He ripped the intravenous from his bandaged arm and ran out of the room, wearing nothing but a thin blue gown that went halfway down his thighs and a ton of bandages wrapped around his arms and legs.

"Leon, wait!" Wesker called out behind him. He attempted to catch the man but Leon easily maneuvered between the people in the hall, far too easily for a person on so many medications.

Leon had to catch up to Chris. There were so many things he had to say to the man, and they couldn't wait. He knew he was acting irrational, but he couldn't risk losing perhaps his final opportunity to speak with the man. He threw open the door to the stairs and took them two at a time, feeling no pain thanks to the high dosage of painkillers. He flew through lobby and outside, scanning for Chris' black truck. He spotted it across the lot, pulling out of a space and circling around towards the exit. Leon ran across the lot diagonally, weaving between the cars and yelling at Chris, hoping the man would hear him and stop. He slid over the hood of a sleek sports car and managed to cut Chris off. The brunet slammed on the breaks and Leon flinched, the truck stopping mere inches from him. Chris got out and yelled at him.

"What the fuck were you thinking? I could have run you over!"

Leon threw himself into the brunet's arms, holding him tightly.

"I'm so sorry Chris. I know nothing I can ever say or do will take back what happened or lessen your pain. It's my fault Claire is dead and I just need you to know how sorry I am. I wish it had been me instead-" Chris put his fingers under Leon's chin and tilted it up to look into his eyes.

"You know you are completely insane for coming down here to tell me that, right?" Chris said jokingly. Leon tried to break the man's gaze but Chris simply forced Leon to look at him again.

"After everything you said, I was afraid I would never get the chance to apologize to you properly."

The brunet sighed and pet Leon's head.

"I was being irrational. I was blinded by grief and not thinking properly. To cut you off like that, after you did everything you could in order to save her… it would be cruel of me."

"The B.S.A.A is taking matters into their own hands. We are going to investigate all of the evidence from the scene and see if we can find any finger prints or DNA left from Jigsaw. They put me as the leader for the mission. Hopefully we can find some useful information that can help us track him down and end the killings. I've already spoken with Wesker; he's going to stay with you for the time being while I work the case. Let me know if you need anything, alright?" Chris raised his gaze as Wesker approached, keeping a respectful distance from the two men.

"Alright." Leon stepped back beside the blond as Chris got in his truck. He gave them a nod as he drove past and pulled out of the parking lot and out of sight.

"We should be returning. Your doctors must be having fits." Leon chuckled at Wesker's words.

"Guess you're right." They turned and made way back inside the hospital, unaware of the man across the lot taking photographs of them.

Leon leaned back in his chair, rocking it on the back two legs as he stared up at the ceiling. He had mostly recovered from the events one week prior, but he was left with horrid scars as a constant reminder of what he had gone through. Most nights he had nightmares, or difficulty sleeping, restless and wary. He kept a pistol under his pillow and most mornings when he awoke it was gripped tightly in his hand, the sheets would be on the floor and his skin would be sticky with sweat. Both Wesker and Chris constantly came and went, concerned about his state of mind. They had every reason to worry, but he told them nothing about the vivid nightmares, sometimes so real he thought he could taste blood in his mouth when he awoke. He tried to act like his usual self, but he had a feeling the men could tell. They were sharing looks with each other and whispering things when they thought he couldn't hear him. He trusted them both with his life; he wouldn't go against their judgement to stay around him until he really was ok.

Leon looked at his watch. Chris would be arriving in an hour or so. He tried to think of a way to kill the time other than reminiscing on the past when he heard a loud bang. Instantly he dropped the chair back to all fours and was on his feet, drawing the gun from the holster on his thigh. He flicked the safety off and proceeded towards the back of the house, knees bent and gun in front of him. As he rounded the hall corner, he saw the backdoor was hanging wide open. Instantly his heart began racing. There was no doubt that someone broke in and was hiding in the shadows. He tried the light switch, but nothing happened, the electricity having been cut off. He pulled a flashlight off of his belt, flicking it on and holding it under his gun tactically. Although it was the middle of the day, the sun was behind the clouds and most of the blinds were drawn, leaving poor visibility. He cursed at himself internally. Should he risk calling Chris? The intruder had dozens of opportunities to get the jump on him. He decided against it and crept further down the hall, the floorboards creaking underfoot and giving away his location. He swallowed nervously as he reached the end of the hall, a door on either side of him.

Leon kicked the door on his left open: the spare room, quickly stepping in and checking his corners. Empty. He sighed, but his relief was only temporary. He had only narrowed down one of the multiple hiding places. He turned back and kicked open the opposite door, the one to his bedroom, checking the corners again. His eyes caught on the folding doors of the closet, the smallest of slits between the two wooden doors. His eyes narrowed as he focused the beam on it, but couldn't see inside. All of the rational parts of his brain were yelling at him to bolt outside and wait for Chris, call the police, anything but this. He ignored it and reached out with the hand holding the flashlight. He gripped the wood and threw it open.

Leon was knocked to the ground, his back hitting the floor hard and winding him momentarily and causing him to drop the flashlight. It spun, the room lighting up as the intruder jumped on him, sitting on his waist, their shadows cast on the wall. He raised his gun at the man but it was knocked from his hands, sliding across the floor. His eyes widened as he looked at the pig mask, long dark locks of fake hair hanging from the material, and the black coat with the hood pulled up. The man produced a syringe and drove it down towards him. Leon grabbed the man's wrist, struggling to keep the needle from touching his skin. The man leaned down, putting most of his body weight into the force. The syringe slowly moving towards his neck. Leon panted hard and kicked out his legs uselessly as he began to panic.

 _No! Not again!_

Leon let out a guttural cry as he pushed up, gripping the man's wrist and turning it so the needle pointed at him. For a few moments it seemed he had turned the tables and had a chance of winning the scuffle. The man struggled against his strength and Leon smirked, his eyes glinting with hatred. Suddenly he put the rest of his weight down on Leon's arms, making them shake as he tired and lost his control. The tip of the syringe was turned back towards him and he watched helplessly as it lowered before piercing the skin of his neck, the contents injected into his bloodstream. He gasped and felt himself blacking out. His arms fell to his sides as he stared up at the man, who removed the mask from his face and smirked down at him, his cold eyes full of malice. Leon's eyes rolled back and he fell into the abyss of unconsciousness, entirely at the mercy of his captor.


End file.
